Where in the World is Alfred Jones?
by comptine
Summary: A three-day long game of hide-and-seek; if Ivan found him, Alfred would join him. If Alfred managed to stay hidden for the three days, Ivan would leave him the hell alone. Too bad things never go quite as smoothly as planned. America/Canada shenanigans
1. The United Kingdom

**Where in the World is Alfred Jones?**

**Chapter 1**

**The United Kingdom**

**-**

Today, Matthew mused sipping a large cup of hot chocolate, was going to be a good day.

At the precise moment this thought went through his head, a hand grabbed around his collar, pulling him backward. He yelped, struggling against his attacker, but to no avail. Another hand had clamped around his mouth, silencing his yells for help.

"Matt!" A voice hissed into his ear. He looked over his shoulder where the bright blue eyes of his brother bored into him. The whites of his eyes were cracked by blurry veins. "I'll explain in a second. Just come with me."

Alfred dragged Matthew down the hallway and into a closet, shutting and locking the door behind him. Canada sat up, feeling around in the air until his hand closed around the chain hanging from the ceiling. As the light burst into life, it swung around wildly, making the shadows on his brother's face flicker. He appeared mad in the shaky light.

"Is there a reason for all this?" He asked. Alfred waved one hand at him, making a shushing gesture with his other. Lowering his voice, he continued, "Really, Alfred, what are you doing?"

When Alfred spoke, it was in a strained whisper. "Ivan's been bugging me about 'becoming one' with him lately, I dunno, I wasn't really paying attention. I challenged him to a game of hide and go seek saying that if he found me in three days, I would join him and that if I managed to stay hidden, he'd leave me alone."

Matthew said nothing, but the look on his face said it all. "I know it was a stupid idea. But it seemed smart at the time. Just hide out at Arthur's place for a couple of days and I wouldn't have to deal with that Red ever again!"

* * *

Arthur looked up from his book as his doorbell faded into silence. "Coming!" He called, moving to his entranceway. He took his time; the person who interrupted the first peace he had since Alfred had taken refuge in his home could wait.

He opened the door and suddenly the sunlight seemed to disappear. The dark silhouette towered above him. Taking a step back, Arthur stumbled slightly, falling over.

The figure moved closer. "Hello!" It said in a friendly voice, offering a large hand. It had finally moved out of the sun, and now England recognized the hulking shape.

"Ivan?" He asked, taking the hand and allowing himself to be pulled roughly to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Alfred. Have you seen him?"

For one moment, Arthur considered lying. He considered telling the behemoth that he had not seen America for weeks and, last he heard, his brother was currently touring Africa

And then he realized, he just wasn't that nice.

"Alfred!" he called, "Someone's here to see you!"

There was no response. Arthur shifted slightly, crossing his arms. Any second now…

A maid popped her head out of the kitchen. "Mr. Jones just left. Shall I call him back, Lord Kirkland?"

Trying to hide his disappointment, Arthur shook his head. "No, that's alright. Just put on a pot of tea." He turned to Ivan, "Sorry, you just missed him. Do you want some tea instead?"

Ivan hesitated for a moment and then bowed his head. "That would be nice. A cup, no more." He followed Arthur into the parlour, taking a seat in the couch while England took his place in his favourite armchair.

In the next room, the maid was putting the kettle on the stove. It fell, spilling water all over the tile. The housemaid blushed, getting to her knees and trying to mop up the water. Arthur got to his feet, intending to help the girl, but a look from Russia forced him back into his chair. "So…" He prompted, his mind rather blank in the presence of the bigger country.

"Do you have any popsicles?"

The United Kingdom narrowed his eyes. "Pop…sicles?"

"Yes. I like cold things." Ivan's smile seemed to strain slightly and Arthur thought it better than to question him.

He waved the maid over, asking her to check if there were any popsicles and to hurry up with the tea. She came back a few minutes later, the tray shaking in her hands as she placed it on the table. Ivan pounced on the frozen stick, ripping off the paper as Arthur stirred the sugar into his tea.

The cup was halfway to his lips when he almost dropped it. Fumbling with the porcelain, the green eyes were fixed on Ivan's mouth. He was moving the popsicle in and out of his mouth with a deliberate slowness. A string of saliva connected his lips to the frozen cherry pop as he offered it to the slack jawed country. "Want some?"

"N-no, I'm f-fine, thank you." Arthur said, tearing his eyes away from the Russian. He focused on the swirling sugar in the bottom of his cup as Ivan shrugged and placed the frozen ice back into his mouth. Just when Arthur had finally gathered enough self-control to face Russia, the Northern nation began to groan. _He doesn't mean to_, Arthur tried to convince himself as the groans grew rough and gutteral, _the ice has frozen to his tongue. He's only trying to peel it off. Yes, that's it. And groaning makes his breath...hotter._

"Arthur?" He snapped out of his thoughts and looked up. The violet eyes were watching him while the tongue gently caught the end of the ice. "Is something wrong?" Oh, he was screwed now. No matter how hard he tried, Arthur couldn't stop watching Ivan. Everything about him seemed so much more... suggestive than it did five minutes ago. The soft blond hair, the strong, hulking body, the smoldering lilac...

His mind suddenly revved back into life. _Smoldering lilac? Did I really think that?!_ Arthur cleared his throat, attempting to get the behemoth's attention. Russia paid him no heed, apparently totally engrossed in the motion of the popsicle sliding in and out... _No! Bad Arthur!_

"Is that really necessary?" He blurted out. A hand played at his collar, attempting to relieve the heat that was building in the pit of his stomach.

The quiet moan as Ivan pulls the half-finished popsicle out of his mouth made the blush on Arthur's cheeks spread to the tips of his ears. His fingers tugged a little more frantically at his shirt collar. "What?"

"The…sucking…" The request hung in the air, slightly lame.

Ivan frowned at him. "How do you eat them?"

"N-not like that!" He got to his feet, striding away, worried that the small bulge in his pants would give Ivan the wrong impression. Staring out the window, Arthur waited for the sucking noise to stop and for the stick to clattered against the tray. Only when he was sure Ivan was done, did he look over. The lips were tinged a bright pink. "I have to go now. Goodbye." The giant left the room without another word.

Arthur quickly moved to the kettle, pouring himself a fresh cup. His hands trembled violently as he prepared his tea. The maid crept into the room, her eyes looking into every corner and back hunched, as though ready to shield herself from an attack. He took no notice, there was only one thing he needed right now and that was a steaming hot cup of tea.

"Wait a second…" He sniffed the tea and then looked at the maid. She shifted under his scrutinizing gaze, her blue eyes not quite meeting his. Her hand tugged at the blond hair while the other pulled her skirt down, trying to hide her legs. Her very hairy legs. Very muscled, hairy legs...

The cup fell from his limp hands. "ALFRED!? WHAT IN GOD'S NAME ARE YOU DOING IN A MAID OUTFIT?" Arthur bellowed, springing to his feet. As Ivan and his goddamned popsicle wasn't bad enough...

"Forgot my pipe," Ivan walked back into the room just as Arthur finished yelling. He looked up, hand slowly closing around the metal and a smile spreading across his face. "There you are."

With a small scream, Alfred gathered his skirts and fled from the room, "Thank you for the popsicle!" Ivan said to Arthur, accompanied by a small wink, and hurried away.

Arthur waited for a few moments before sinking into his chair and burying his face in his hands. It was over. No more maids, no more sucking, no more Alfred and _definitely _no more Ivan. There was nothing else that could possible go-

"Lord Kirkland!" He looked up at the distraught voice. His maid was standing in the middle of his parlor, stark-naked save for a brown bomber jacket. "You'll never guess what just happened!"

* * *

Matthew stared at his brother. He had done some idiotic things before, more than Canada cared to remember, but there was always a line that Alfred knew not to cross. No matter of thickheaded he appeared, that line was important and he knew never to cross it. The line was the difference between calling Ivan 'big-boned' instead of 'fat.' The line was the difference between eating Arthur's food and saying 'not good' as opposed to 'vomit-inducing crap.' The line was the difference between going to France's house and telling him the Eiffel Tower was a 'masterpiece' rather than 'a giant, iron compensation.'

That was until today. Today, the line had been crossed.

"Alfred. You are an idiot." Matthew had never said these words aloud, though they often ran through his head. It felt good.

And to his great surprise, America hung his head. "You're right Mattie. I'm an idiot." He quickly rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "A big, stupid, fat idiot."

_The one time I wish I had a recorder..._ "But you're still my brother, and I'm going to help you. Okay?"

The mood shift was instantaneous. Alfred was hugging him and his big grin was back on his face. "You are the best little brother... EVER!" He praised, holding him at arms length. He had tears in his eyes. "You still might manage to become as awesome as I am one day."

"Found you~" A voice said from behind them, interrupting Alfred's celebrating. Turning around, they saw Ivan standing in the closet doorway, pipe in hand. America squeaked and pushed Matthew out in front of him, ready to use him as a meat shield if Ivan chose to get violent.

"Oh fuck," said Matthew.

* * *

**Author's Note**

What ho!? Could that be some semblance of a plot I see on the horizon?

Wait, my bad, it's just imminent Russia!rape.


	2. France

**Where in the World is Alfred Jones?**

**Chapter 2**

**France**

**-  
**

Ivan appeared puzzled as he glanced between the two blonds cowering in the closet. Reaching in, his hands grab their collars, hoisting them into the air. One struggled violently while the other hung limply, covering his face with his hands and wailing.

"Shut up." He said quietly, shaking them. They both stopped, though the odd whimper still escaped from the smaller one. "You will listen to me or face the consequences. Understand?"

The heavier one immediately piped up, waving his arms wildly. "No way! I'll never listen to you, you stupid Red!"

Five minutes later, both Matthew and Alfred were back-to-back, tied to chairs with their feet and hands bound. "You will listen now?" Ivan asked, crossing his arms and smiling victoriously. He only received mumbles past the gags he had stuffed into their mouths. "Good. Now, which of you will I start with..."

He paced around them, meeting the defiant eyes with his own. The other had his head down and was trembling. Sensing weakness, he moved to him, pulling out the cloth. The shivering boy carefully looked up, his eyes watering.

"You think you are clever?" Russia asked. "I have not forgotten our meeting in Paris."

* * *

Paris sprawled around them, alight with streetlights, headlamps and windows, all reflecting in the rivers that crisscrossed through the city. Above them, the Eiffel Tower shimmered against the night sky, the crowning jewel of the City of Lights.

Francis smiled at the young brunette curled beside him. The tourists had long left the streets, leaving the Parisians to wander unhindered by tourgroups.

"_Mon maison est juste là._" He purred, pointing across the river to a large mansion. "Would you do me the pleasure of accompanying me there?"

The girl giggled, nodding and allowing herself to be lead away from the bench. She snuggled closer to France, allowing his hands to travel down her back.

"France! Francis! You gotta help me!" They turned around to see a main running towards them, face flushed and high heels clicking on the brick. She caught up with them and seized Francis by the shoulders, shaking him violently. "Ivan! Chasing! Hide me!"

"_Une bonne?!_" The brunette demanded, pointing at the maid, "And you said I was the only one for you! You lying, promiscuous _COCHON_!" She slapped Francis and stormed away, still ranting in French.

Before he could recover, Alfred's face was in his, yelling at the top of his lungs and speaking as fast as was humanly possible, "Ivan's chasing me and I gotta hide or he's gonna get me and then I don't even know what he's going to do to me, I mean you've heard the stories from Toris! Rape! He could rape me and I couldn't do anything! Help me. HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

A finger pressed against his lips. "Alfred. Please, calm down for a minute." He breathed in but the finger only pushed harder, "Panicking in not going to help. Now, are you going to be quiet, or am I going to leave you for Ivan?" The threat hung in the air.

Alfred bowed his head and Francis let his hand fall back to his side. "Good. Come over here and sit. Tell me exactly what happened." They sat on the bench France and his date had occupied not five minutes ago. Alfred fiddled with his skirts as he explained his situation. When he finished, he looked at the Frenchman. The blond head was tilted back and his eyes were closed. "And that's everything?"

"Yep. Everything."

"Even the popsicle part?"

"Yeah."

"Of course... Why did I never think of that?"

"What was that?"

Francis shook his head, coming out of a small daydream that involved a certain blond. He looked Alfred up and down. From the bagged eyes, the goosebumped skin and the lines that creased his forehead, France could discern exactly what his brother needed. "Sleep. You'll be able to think clearer with some rest."

For a moment, America wanted to jump up and shake the man. What was he doing, suggesting sleep when a madman was after him! But his brain started to throb at the very idea. "You're right." Alfred sighed. "Don't let me sleep too long though..." He pulled his knees to his chest and let his head droop forward. The wood dug into his back and the wind was curling off the water, making his shiver.

He had never felt more miserable in his life. Not even during the Great Depression. Here he was, hunted by the one nation he had sworn to defeat and he might actually _lose_. Not to mention he was freezing in a maid outfit. He sniffed, blinking quickly.

A hand slide over his shoulder and pulled him down. He moved his face just in time to avoid a complete face-crotch encounter. Struggling to get back up, the hand only pushed harder, keeping him on Francis' thigh. "W-what?!" He said, voice shaking.

"You can't sleep sitting up." The hand relaxed slightly. After getting over his initial shock, Alfred shifted slightly and closed his eyes. The leg was far more comfortable than the wood had been, but he was still wary of the groin that was an inch from his head. Slowly the city drifted away and the last thing he remembered is his glasses gently being pulled off and a whisper in his ear.

_Bonne nuit._

_

* * *

_

It was an odd sight.

In the early hours of the morning, a police officer had been doing his usual rounds. Keeping an eye out for graffitiers and tourists who believed they could climb the Tower and get to the top. These encounters were rare and his patrol tended to end up as more of a stroll in the crisp morning air.

So when he happened upon a tall blond man snoring on a bench with a maid curled in his lap, you could say he was a little surprised. He slowly reached for his baton, ready for a fight. "_Hé_!_ Police! R__éveille toi!" _He shuffled forward, poking the larger man who sat up, coughing and staring bleary-eyed at the cop.

"What's happening?" The maid was also waking up and the policeman realized that in a fight of two-on-one, he would probably lose. Backing away, he started yelling in French. Even with his limited knowledge of the language, Alfred could still understand that he was calling for help.

Francis jumped to his feet and started talking to the man in a calming voice. The policeman seemed confused at first but as they continue to talk, his face relaxes into an amused grin. He laughed and sheathed his baton before walking away, still chuckling to himself.

"That could've been bad..." his ran his fingers through his hair, "Stay here, I'm going to get you some clothes. You're..." his voice wavered.

"Standing out..." Alfred finished for him. "Hurry please, it's starting to get really cold." He shivered and watched Francis walk away. Tourists were gathering as the sun rose on the horizon. He did his best to ignore them, pretending that they were taking pictures of the bush behind him and nothing else. When France reappeared, he practically ripped the dress off and pulled the new clothes on with a content sigh.

"Thank you." For the first time in hours, his head was clear and he felt a little more hopeful. With Francis' help, he might just be able to survive this one.

"Let's get some food and then we'll figure out the Ivan Issue." Francis led him to a small shop on the edge of the square. A Chinese man was working behind the counter while three people stood in line in front of him, two young girls and a bald man in a bright yellow vest. The worker seemed more focused on talking into his cellphone rather than serving his customers so the line moved nowhere.

"That's odd..." Francis commented, glancing over at the line that had been growing near the ticket booth. "They're not letting people in." He walked towards the crowd, leaving Alfred to continue standing in the cold. He moved from side to side, trying to dispel the chill. The two girls had finally had their order taken; a coffee and a waffle. But again, the cellphone seemed to take precedence over the girls and the attendant disappeared for five minutes. Already he was getting fidgety and kept his head down, watching his feet move.

"Did he go to Mongolia to get the coffee?" Alfred looked up. It wasn't Francis, not that the strong British accent was a dead giveaway or anything, but rather the bald young man who was shivering in the morning air.

"Uh…" He said, but the two girls in front of him were laughing. Keeping his lips closed, Alfred listened in on the conversation, glad for any form of a distraction.

"I fucking hate this country." The Brit continued. Again the girls laughed, leaving Alfred to stare at them. Were Matthew's people really this unkind?

"What are you doing in Paris?"

"I'm a tour guide. It's great. I have a group old Americans complaining about how the tower's closed." The Canadians and Brit laughed heartily. Alfred swelled and just when he was about to tell them about how his people were just frustrated because they weren't able to go to the top of the giant Tower of Compensation and it was really the tour guide's fault for not planning, a shout rang out above the angry mutterings of the gathered travelers.

"Alfred!" Francis pushed through the crowd, waving at him frantically. "Ivan's here!" Alfred looked past France, feeling the blood drain from his face. Even from a distance, the hulking profile was unmistakable.

"WHAT!?" He grabbed Francis, his breathing suddenly fast and shallow, "How? How does he keep finding me?"

"Don't worry, I've got a plan. Follow me."

* * *

The two girls munched happily on their waffle, glad to have finally been served. Many of the tourists had given up the Eiffel Tower as a bad job and they were slowly leaving, hailing taxis on getting on the tour buses that lined the streets. The remaining crowds consisted only of a kissing couple, some street vendors and a few Finnish tourists who were arguing loudly with security. They looked up as a large man approached them. His jacket seemed heavy, even for the chilly day. They stared at him, frowning.

"Have you seen a blond man with glasses around?" His accent was heavy and the English seemed forced.

The girls exchanged nervous glances and huddled closer. "Uh, was he about this tall?" One asked, holding a hand above her short brown hair.

"Yes."

"We saw him. He was here about five minutes ago, should still be around somewhere…" The brunette peered around, "Sorry, you must've just missed him."

He nodded his head. "Thank you." Waving at them, the man walked away.

Shrugging the odd encounter off, the girls threw their garbage out and hurried across the square into the shelter of a red bus. As they ran by the kissing pair, they yelled, "Get a room!" After a pause, the couple broke apart. One immediately began spluttering, rubbing his lips cursing his partner, who was smirking and running a hand through his sleek hair.

"What were you THINKING!?" Alfred spluttered, the red on his face was glowing. "Kissing?! You couldn't just hide me? Where in your mind did that seem like a good idea?"

"Should I kiss you again? Maybe you'll see what a good idea it is~"

Alfred's hand found Francis' face and pushed him away while screaming, "GET AWAY FROM ME YOU PERVERT!" He ran away, leaving the Frenchman to deal with his bleeding nose.

The crowds were thin but he still managed to bump into every second person, leaving a trail of disgruntled tourists yelling at him in a multitude in different languages. As he rounded a corner, he smashed right into a biker. Falling backwards, he hit the ground, cracking his head on the concrete. The world wavered in front of him as two hands closed around his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. Alfred swayed on the spot, trying to regain some sense of his balance.

"Thanks," he muttered. He turned, expecting to see the cyclist standing behind him. "Oh no..."

A hand raised in greeting. "Hello America." Ivan smiled at him. "You should be more careful."

Letting out a small squeak, Alfred ran over to the bicycle he had knocked into, pushed the confused rider off and hopped on, tearing away from the Russian.

* * *

Matthew whimpered as Ivan leaned over him, his gaze rolling over every inch of him. "You remember how close I was to capturing you? I even had you in my hands and you still got away."

A hand wrapped around his, squeezing it reassuringly. He tried looking over at his shoulder, but Ivan's hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into the soft face. His breath caught and tears began to run down his face.

"Now tell me," Ivan said. His fingers suddenly tightened, pulling Matthew's hair and electing a yelp from him. "Are you America?" There was a pause. Canada's blue eyes stopped leaking tears and his whole body suddenly went ridged. His voice was glow when he spoke.

"Seriously?" said Matthew.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Thought? Feelings? Comments? Any guesses as to where we're going next? Lemmie hear 'em :D

Also, yes, France and US are brothers. Whether by adoption or whatever, I don't know. I believe Francis is as much Matthew and Alfred's older brother as Arthur is so nernerner.


	3. Germany

**Where in the World is Alfred Jones**

**Chapter 3**

**Germany**

**-**

Matthew scowled up at the Russian. You'd think after a good few years they'd be able to tell the difference between himself and Alfred. They were clearly not the same and even if you didn't know the brothers well, you'd still be able to tell the difference from their HAIR. A single curl does not equal a stupid cowlick.

"Who do you think I am!?" He demanded, temper boiling over as he forgets his fear. Russia seemed a little taken aback, slowly leaning away from the Canadian, "Really, tell me. Who do you THINK I am!?"

"Calm down!" Matthew froze, trying to look over his shoulder at his brother whose head was bent over, "Ivan, there's something I need to tell you."

Russia smiled and strode over to America. "Yes?" He asked sweetly, hand reaching into his jacket and pulling out his pipe.

Blue eyes stare at the faucet and his voice seemed to catch. Matthew squeezed his hand. If America was going to finally face up to his deal, Canada would do everything in his power to keep him safe.

Finally, Alfred cleared his throat.

* * *

Germany thought this was going to be pretty normal day. After getting up at the break of dawn -making sure not to wake Italy as he rolled out of bed- and sharing a quick breakfast with Gilbert and Roderich. More of a tennis match argument than a relaxed meal. At least they were talking, albeit loudly.

Once they had left, Ludwig had spent the better part of his day working on his latest toy, a 1937 Rolls Royce Phantom III. It was a mess when he had picked it from a junkyard, barely saving it from becoming a brand new dishwasher, but only two weeks with him, it was good as new.

There was something calming about working with cars. No one to bother him, only precision work and quiet. Even the Italian had figured out that Ludwig should not be bothered when working with his vehicles unless the situation was dire.

Today, judging from the high pitch of Italy's voice and the tears forming at the corner of his eyes, was a dire situation. Once he had calmed him down so that he could understand the Italian, Germany listened to the hastily explanation that Alfred was here was he was hiding from Russia.

"Let him in." he conceded, rolling back under the car. Just as he lifted his hand to adjust a bolt, arms snaked around his leg and something pressed against his crotch, nuzzling there. "Uh…" His face turned beet-red as he lifted it to see Italy hugging his legs.

"You're so nice Germany!" He chirruped, breath warm against Ludwig's thighs. "I'll be right back!" Italy got to his feet and hurried away, leaving a very-flustered German under the car.

Giving himself a moment, Ludwig pushed himself out from under the car as a pair of feet ran towards him, accompanied by a loud voice yelling frantically "Germany! You gotta help me man!" Alfred appeared standing over him, panting.

Slowly, he got to his feet; carefully placing his wrench beside his toolbox while Alfred explained the last two days. As the story unfolded, Germany said nothing, just crossed his arms and leaned against the car. Even the maid story seemed to only surprise him slightly, his reaction nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

When America drew breath, he finally spoke. "So, you're telling me that Russia is hunting you."

"Right."

"Because you challenged him to a game of hide-and-go-seek."

"Right."

"And it never occurred to you to just hide in your own house."

"Right."

"So instead you hid in Arthur's house and dressed up as a maid."

"Right."

"And then you went in France, and he found you."

"Right."

"After an angry British man complained about your people to two Canadians."

"Right."

"And then you escaped by kissing Francis and stealing a man's bike."

Alfred nodded. "That's everything. Can't you help me? Don't you think I've been through enough?"

Ludwig shifted slightly. He wasn't a fan of the American. Too much hero and not enough work ethic. How did he manage to become such a powerful country?

On the other hand, if he didn't help him, Ivan would have an even larger force and could potentially declare war on the rest of the world without even breaking a sweat.

"Okay. I'll protect you." Germany, held up a hand before America could thank him, "But I can't hide you in my house. Please, go to garage until Russia comes by. I'll tell him you went to Egypt's house. Once he's gone, you can come out and we'll get your back to your own country."

"Thank Luddy, you're a lifesaver." Alfred punched him in the shoulder.

The light blue eyes narrowed. "Don't call me Luddy ever again."

Chuckling nervously, the younger country quickly turned on his heel and hightailed it to the garage before the German got any ideas involving the wrench and a few broken bones

Meanwhile, inside Germany's house, Italy was opening the door for the second time that day. Ivan hulked in the doorway, grinning down at the Italian. "Hello."

"Ve~ Ivan!" He stepped aside, letting the Russian enter, "Are you here for something?"

"I heard America was here today. He has something of mine and I want it back." Russia said with the tiniest hint of an eye twitch.

Italy nodded, his curl bouncing up and down. "Alfred was just here! I'll go get him!" He turned around but a hand grabbed his curl, pulling him back. He yelped, tear pricking at the corner of his eyes are a thumb slowly began to rub the hair, "Ivan! What are you doing?"

"I want you to be quiet about it. Don't let Alfred know I'm here," He released the curl and Italy stumbled away, panting slightly, "Got it?"

"Why not?" Feliciano asked, eyes over bright.

Russia smiled at him. "Because I want to surprise Alfred."

* * *

Alfred crouched behind the silver Jaguar, keeping still and quiet as possible. While Germany had promised to keep him safe, the last two encounters with Ivan had taught him to not take any chances. The plan seemed pretty good, if Ivan put up a fight, the German would be more than ready to take him on.

Glancing around the car, American couldn't help but feel a small pang of jealousy at the collection housed in the building. It was more of a small warehouse than a garage, the overhead florescent lights illuminated the rows of vehicles. Military jeeps, motorcycles, a collection of convertibles that any Bond fan would kill for and even an old World War I fighter, the Iron Cross on its tail still intact. Each was in meticulous shape and the crimson Ferrari in the corner was looking particularly enticing.

His mind slowly began to wander…

_The door of the garage burst open. Fifty, no, a hundred armed soldiers streamed into the room, lining up along the fronts of the cars, holding their guns -one even had a rocket launcher- at ready. A behemoth of a man walked inside. His dark uniform was decorated with numerous badges and was speckled with blood. The hat was tilted low, shadowing his eyes._

"_Alfred!" The voice barked. Large hands clasped behind his back as he slowly paced along the row of cars. "Come out, or I will see to it that your friend Germany will die!" At the snap of his fingers, three soldiers dragged in aforementioned man. Blood soaked his shirt and dripped from his broken nose. He had a large gash across his chest that was slowly oozing._

_Despite this, he was still fighting valiantly against his captors. "He'll never give into you!" Ludwig cried, his voice unnaturally high and slightly feminine, "America is a hero!"_

_Laughing, Russia pulled a gun out of his holster. He raised his chin so that his cruel, purple eyes flashed in the light. He pressed the muzzle against the forehead. "Are you watching Alfred? Come out and I will spare him." _

_The garage was silent._

_He pulled the hammer back. "I will count to three. One,"_

_The soldiers held their gun tight, eyes searching everywhere for any hint of their prey._

"_Two,"_

_His finger squeezed the trigger._

_CRACK!_

_A whip snapped through the air. Ivan's gun flew into the air and landing in the outstretched hand of Alfred Jones. The lieutenant held up his arm, ready to give the order to fire but Russia spoke before he could. "Ah, Mr. Jones. I was expecting you earlier."_

_Alfred tipped his felt fedora in he Russian's direction. "Time always waits for the heroic." Again, the garage was silent, though more out of stunned silence than anticipation. Everyone stared at Alfred, who sucked his breath in through his teeth, "That wasn't good was it?"_

_Ivan shook his head._

"_Okay…Justice served 24/7?"_

_There were mutters among the men but no outright approval. One of them piped up, "You're a hero! Try something with that!" The lieutenant facepalmed._

"_You could just call me the Hero of Time." Alfred said winking and firing at Ivan with his finger gun. The Russian chuckled._

"_Justice knows no time?" America tried, wondering how he could be failing so hard in his own daydream._

"Comrade?" Alfred froze, his heart jumping into his throat as he fell from the daydream. "What are you doing over here?"

Ivan stood over him, grinning madly as always. Alfred quickly scrambled away, smashing his head into the side door of light blue MG. He cursed and rubbed his head as the world flickered slightly.

"Perhaps," The other nation crouched, propping his chin on his hand, "you were imagining yourself as Mr. Bond?"

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "Bond's a Brit you Red bastard!" and he drew back his fist, and sunk it into Russia's crotch. Ivan keeled over while Alfred jumped up, posing for a moment before hoping over the MG into the red Ferrari. "See ya!" He said, reaching for the clutch and putting it in drive and speeding away.

Or at least he would've if there had been keys in the car. He paled and looked over his shoulder. Ivan was already getting his feet, his expression nothing short of homicidal. He clambered out of the convertible and glanced around for a set of keys. Some glinted at him, hanging from the ignition.

Sprinting over, Alfred seized the keys and turned them, hoping onto the vehicle. As he looked down at the vehicle, his face fell. "You've got to be kidding me."

* * *

Outside, Germany was currently comforting a distraught Italian. "What did Ivan do to you?"

"He touched my curl!" Italy sobbed into Germany's chest. "And made me promise not to tell you that he was looking for America!"

"Wait. Ivan's here? As in _here _here!?"

"Yessssssss," he wailed, "He said he wanted to surprise him!"

Germany sighed and patted Italy's head. "I'll be right back." He ran over to his garage, praying that at least some part of collection would be salvageable from the wreck. At the same time, he prayed that Alfred would be dead because he wasn't sure if he could keep control if even one of his cars had a scratch.

His fist slammed on the door and it slowly rolled open. He peaked inside and had to withdraw his head as America exploded out of the garage on a tiny blue scooter. "I'll return this!" He called as he sped away. "Thanks Luddy!"

Ludwig blinked. Taking a deep breath, he took another look into his garage. Inside, Ivan was hobbling towards him, moving between his miraculous still-mint condition collection. Without a word, Russia pushed by him and made his way to the front door.

So much for a calm relaxing day.

* * *

"Ve~ Germany," Feliciano turned to him, gently poking his face. The blue eyes opened, looking at the clock.

_2:03am_

"I've been wondering about something." He continued, sitting up in the bed.

"What is it?" Ludwig grumbled, rubbing his face.

"Was I not supposed to tell Ivan about America?"

Germany rolled over and said nothing.

* * *

"I…" Alfred gulped, "I am Canada. T-this is my brother, no, _hero_ brother America."

There was silence.

Russia's face darkened and a smile spread across his face and he slowly walked back over to Matthew, clutching his pipe close to his chest. "Then we can end this game?"

"I hate you." Said Matthew.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Sorry this chapter took such a long time… it wasn't supposed to be this long but things just got out of hand. (that's what she said)

Oh god… I just realized I won't be seeing my German friend anymore! He moved back to Deutschland! Bawwwh ;A; Mathis! Your awesome will live on!

Dedicated to Mat then, because he was so friendly and said that if he was ever to cosplay he'd totally be Ludwig.

And please, let me hear your suggestions for more of Alfred's oneliners!

Austria, here we come!


	4. Austria

**Where in the World is Alfred Jones**

**Chapter 4  
**

**Austria**

**-**

Arthur had dealt with his brother more times than he cared to remember. Stupid plots, idiotic ideas and imbecilic schemes that always landed him in a heap of trouble. He didn't mind, it was understandable and as long as there was some reconciliation in the end and he got to punch Alfred at least once, he was happy.

However, when the plan involved having Matthew taken away under the pretence of becoming one with Ivan, it seemed as though resolution was unimaginable, he took great issue with his brother.

Due to this, he was currently in the process of strangling Alfred while castigating him loudly. "AND ANOTHER THING. Why in God's name would you do that? You're a bloody idiot! Do you know what Ivan will do to him? I daresay even if we got him back, he would be in pieces! PIECES! My poor Matthew! The one thing I've done right in this world and you've gone and gotten him killed because you're too much of a coward to tell Ivan you're YOURSELF! Some hero you are!"

Hands suddenly grabbed his arms, pulling him of America. He struggled violently against France's hold. "Let me go! I'm not done!" Francis didn't release him.

Alfred leaned against the wall, coughing and holding his throat. "Y-you almost killed me your crazy bastard!" He gasped, glaring at his brother. "And what are you blaming me for!? Matthew said he'd help me if I needed him! Consider this helping me!"

"Helping!? HELPING! I hope to God I never ask you for help if that's what you consider help!" Arthur yelled, snatching his arms out of Francis' grip, but he didn't leap on America. "C'mon Francis, let's go get Matthew back." Arthur turned on Alfred and strode away.

Francis grabbed Arthur's shoulder. "Wait a second," Arthur paused, but didn't turn around. "Just tell us what happened after you escaped from Germany's house. Maybe it'll give us some clue as to where Ivan took Matthew."

"Well, then I went to Roderich's house… it was closest."

* * *

When Alfred knocked on Austria's door, he was unsurprised to find Elizaveta opening it. She greeted him with a warm smile and invited him inside, saying that Roderich was out at the moment. Her calm air and pleasant manner unconsciously comforted him, letting him breath.

She led him into the kitchen, offering him coffee and a snack while he explained his situation. Hungary was sympathetic to his cause and promised to protect him, taking up her frying pan and saluting him. Smiling, he sipped his coffee and breathed in, closing his eyes.

"Thanks Elizaveta… And you're sure Roderich won't mind me staying here?"

She smiled at him. "don't worry. If you tell Roderich your story, I'm sure he'd be glad to let you stay. I'm not expecting him back for a while anyway…" She trailed off as the sound of the front door echoed through the house. Frowning, she peeked around the corner.

"Thanks for letting me over Roderich!" A voice said, loudly and obnoxious, "can I get some of that pie you bake? It's so good, for prick pie at least."

"I didn't let you come over," Someone said back, obviously ticked off, "You followed me home. Idiot."

Jumping as though hit my lightning, Elizaveta wheeled around, seized Alfred and dragged him into the living room and shoving him into a closet, slamming the door shut. America slammed against the wall, hitting his head painfully. Waving his arms around, he felt something warm moved behind him, "Elizaveta? What the hell is going on?"

A flashlight flicked on, illuminating her face. It was agleam with a maniacal grin. "I swear Alfred, if you mess this up for me… Stay, and be quiet. Make one peep and I'll kick your ass, got it?"

Alfred swallowed and nodded. With a finger, she carefully beckoned him in the door, slipping a camera out of her apron pocket. Whispering for him to get on his knees, she leaned on him, creeping the door open the tiniest of inches.

There, in the parlour, were Roderich and Gilbert. Austria leaned against his piano, face turned as Gilbert advanced on him.

Alfred weighed his options. On one hand, he could burst out of the closet and risk Elizaveta's wrath. That, or he could stay here, under her wing, and see Gilbert and Roderich possibly get it on. Sighing and reminding himself to never make a deal with Ivan again, he half-closed his eyes and watched the proceedings.

"Shouldn't you be, y'know," He said, tilted his head, trying to catch Hungary's eye, "Killing Gilbert with your frying pan? Isn't that your job?"

She brought her camera down on his head. "After. I'll get him after."

Before he could argue, Gilbert spoke from the parlour. His chuckles were low, nothing like his usual guffaw. "You stupid aristocrat…" he muttered, reaching out and tucking a piece of brown hair behind Roderich's slightly red ear.

"You're one to talk." Austria said, turning his head away from Prussia, "You beat me once. And look now, I'm still a country." He didn't smile, but arched his eyebrows.

Gilbert smiled. "And look now, you're still my bitch." He closed the distance between them, gripping Roderich's hips with his hands.

Above him, Alfred heard Elizaveta breath in sharply, quivering with anticipation. He shifted slightly, trying to adjust his stance. Hungary seemed to have mysteriously gained two hundred pounds.

"Oh, Ivan!" she whispered suddenly, "I thought you were in here. You're just in time. They haven't gotten there yet, but it's definitely coming."

America wasn't sure what was more unsettling the fact that Ivan had managed to sneak up on him _again_, or the way Elizaveta said 'coming'. He didn't have a lot of time to ponder as he fled past the pissed-off Prussia and the flushing Austria, through the open window and into the backyard.

Russia stepped out into the sunroom and inclined his head in Hungary's direction. "I am sorry. I would stay but," He gestured vaguely in the fleeing Yank's direction, "Next week?"

"Always." She said, slinking back into her hiding place.

As Ivan followed Alfred, he stopped near Gilbert. The albino was quivering slightly. The pipe came to rest under his chin, gently lifting so the crimson eyes met violet ones. "Don't worry," Ivan said, his voice husky, "You're next after the American. It will be… _old times_, no?" He lumbered away, smiling.

Gilbert was shivering violent now, holding himself, rocking slightly. His face was contorted as the memories of the Potsdam came rushing back to him. He took a step away from Austria, his eyes glazing over. His usual cockiness lost in a quiet fear.

A hand caught his shoulder, making him look round. The brunette smiled, whispering calmly to him. Prussia leaned forward, letting his head come to rest on Roderich's shoulder. The pianist hummed into his ear, gently running his long fingers through the soft white-blond hair.

Gilbert looked up, and gently kissed Roderich. The Austrian did not resist, letting himself be pushed against the piano. Hands moved down his arms coming to intertwine their fingers.

All the while, the quiet clicking of the camera could be heard.

* * *

"Why did you want to hear that story anyway Francis?" Alfred said, frowning. By now, Arthur had settled down, actively listening to his brother, "Isn't it pretty obvious that Ivan took him to his house?"

But Francis was too busy wiping up his nosebleed to answer.

Arthur crossed his arms. "I hate you both so much right now. I don't even know which one of you I'm going to kill first."

* * *

**Author's Note**

Hungary + Russia = perverted bffs.


	5. China

Li = Hong Kong

Meili = Taiwan

* * *

**Where in the World is Alfred Jones?**

**Chapter 5**

**China**

**-**

Ivan's mansion was north of Moscow, about a two-hour drive out of the city. Arthur drove, bundled up in a warm coat. Francis and Alfred sat in the back, neither allowed the privilege of shotgun, both sporting numerous bruises and cuts, courtesy of the driver. They griped the entire way while England watched at the road, humming to himself.

Finally, he spotted the house. After a little off-road driving, the truck jerked to a stop and the three piled out. England turned to his two companions, pulling a gun out of his coat pocket. He chambered the semi-automatic, pointing it at the ground, checking the sight. "You ready?"

"Um, isn't that a bit much _Angleterre_?" France quirked his head, nervously scratching his chin, "We're only going in to save Matthew. Ivan will understand once we explain."

Arthur grinned. "Oh, this isn't for Ivan." He pointed the gun at Alfred, "This is to make sure this little git doesn't back out. Now let's get moving, shall we?"

Alfred raised his hands, eyeing the weapon in his brother's hand. "Seriously Art? You think I'm gonna run away? I'm not abandoning Matt! I was the one who said we should come and save him!"

"Not taking any chances." Arthur said, shrugging. "Now get up there and knock on the door. Francis and I are right behind you."

Walking up the steps, Alfred hesitated at the door. He looked over his shoulder. The two nations were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, France shivering slightly and England's gun still trained on America. "Don't you want to hear what happened to me after Austria's house?" He called, clearly playing for time.

"No." said Arthur.

"Yes." said Francis.

The two stared at each other. Alfred could almost see the daggers flying from their eyes. After the silent confrontation, England sighed and shook his head while Francis smirked. "Go ahead Alfred," Arthur said, glaring at France, "Tell us then."

"So, there weren't very many places I could go. So I decided to head East…"

* * *

Alfred leaned against the pillar, trying to catch his breath. Above him towered China's mansion, elegant carvings decorating the large double doors leading into it. He knew it was dangerously close to Russia's house, but at this point, he was willing to try anything. Straightening his jacket, he knocked on the door.

A servant opened it, greeting Alfred in accented-English. He led the nation inside, through the winding corridors, all the artefacts and decorations making Alfred's head spin. They stopped at the door leading to China's inner chambers and the attendant bid him a quiet goodbye before scurrying away.

He gripped the handle, pushing the door open. There was a blast of music and five people could be seen inside, all watching a large television screen. Four were sitting while one was standing, holding a microphone and singing unreservedly.

"_Iro hani hohe to chiri nuru wo_," Kiku sang, moving side to side in time with the music, "_Hi no izuru kuni jipangu_,"

The song faded into silence and the four sitting clapped enthusiastically. From behind, America could recognize Taiwan's long hair, Korea's flapping sleeves, Hong Kong's stoic figure and China's ponytail. Bowing, Japan turned to his siblings and then caught sight of Alfred. A pink tinge flushed across the pale cheek. "America-san, what are you doing here?" He asked, trying to keep a bit of his dignity.

Unfortunately, at that very moment, Korea thought it would be a good time to grope Kiku's chest. As Japan attempted to fight him off, the rest of the Asian nations rose. Taiwan smiled politely; Hong Kong stared while China moved forward, pulling Yong Soo off Kiku. "Alfred. How good to see you, aru."

America stepped into the room, grinning widely at Japan. "Yao, I'm sorry, but Russia's been following me and-"

China cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry. Germany's already called. And Elizaveta called Meili and Arthur called Li. We know, and we want to hide you."

It took all of Alfred's self-control not to hug Yao. "Thank you."

Taiwan hurried over to America, taking his arm. "C'mon! We've got a plan to hide you!" She dragged him off, Korea and Hong Kong following. Japan and China remained behind, not wanting to get wrapped up in the shenanigans their siblings were sure to begin.

* * *

_An hour later._

Wang Yao opened the door. "Ivan! Come in, aru. We were just sitting down for some dinner." He let the large nation enter, smiling at him. "You will join us?"

Shrugging off his coat, Russia hugged Yao tightly. China didn't resist, knowing it was all part of the act. "Good to see you." He released the slightly ruffled Asian. "You've seen America I guess? There is nowhere else he could go."

Frowning, Yao led Ivan through the halls. "You mean Alfred? No, I haven't seen him since our last trade meeting, aru. Why? Are you looking for him?" He opened the door to the dining room. Inside, his four siblings sat around the table, food sitting untouched on their plates.

There was a stiffening of backs around the table as Ivan entered the room. They didn't like how close he was getting to their oldest brother, but Yao was the elder and did know best… at times. That didn't stop Yong Soo from sticking out his tongue at the Russian. Hong Kong smacked the top of his head, making Japan and China grin.

While China asked for another serving of dinner, Ivan sat down at his right hand, across from Kiku. Once the servant had returned, placing a steaming plate in front of the blond, Yao bowed his head and they all started eating. Russia fumbled with the chopsticks for a few moments before getting the hang of it and shovelling food into his mouth. He finished before everyone else and took the next few minutes staring at each nation in turn, making the mood heavy and awkward.

Finally he cleared his throat. "So," The violet eyes fell on Japan, "Has anything been going on lately Kiku?"

Japan put his utensils down, meeting Russia's gaze. They stared at each other, each daring the other to look away and admit defeat. "No. There is nothing going on." He said smoothly. "Nothing at all." The dark eyes flickered for a second, looking at Hong Kong.

Ivan's smile grew. Seeing this, Taiwan kicked attempted to kick Japan under the table. Due to the shortness of her legs, she missed, hitting Li instead. He moaned, face twitching from its usual stony composure. "Hong Kong?" Russia quirked an eyebrow, "Is something wrong?"

"No." He said through clenched teeth, "I am fine."

"So, Ivan," Taiwan said quickly, a curl bopping in front of her eyes, "How is the weather? You're having a warm summer I hope?"

Russia head turned in her direction. She shrunk under his gaze, fingers playing with her hair. "It's winter."

"Oh." She said quietly, bowing her head, poking at her food.

Korea couldn't handle it anymore. "God, you guys are all so uptight!" He said suddenly, looking around at his siblings, "Is this all because Alfred's over, right?"

The silence that fell was deadly. Ivan stood up from the table and Japan followed suit, hand automatically reaching for his katana. Yao's amber eyes looked between his brother and the northern nation, wary. He glanced at Hong Kong, who looked to Yong Soo who looked to his sister. Taiwan looked back to China and gave a small nod.

"You are right, Ivan." Wang Yao said, also rising and folding his hands within the folds of his crimson changshan, "Alfred is here. However, he is hidden deep within my mansion and I will only permit you to search three rooms before I will have you forcibly removed." He arched an eyebrow, "Do we have an agreement, aru?"

The blond thought for a moment then nodded his head. "And you will not interfere if I find him?"

"Not at all."

Without another word, Russia left the room. Hong Kong followed after him while Taiwan and Korea started to talk, the sister punching him repeatedly while Yong Soo flailed around the room, trying to dodge the blows. Japan walked up to his brother, quivering slightly. "How could you do that to America-san? Why couldn't you just tell Russia to leave?"

An amber eye winked at him. "Ivan won't find him, Li's going to make sure of that."

"I would say I'm comforted," Kiku said, "But that would be a lie."

* * *

Russia stared at the door. He had already lost two of his guesses to the kitchen and an empty guest room and now only had one chance left to find Alfred. He blames his bad luck on Hong Kong, would had been following him since the beginning, but the Asian seemed to disappeared, clearing his head and giving him time to assess the situation.

America wasn't cunning. He was just incredible lucky, but everyone's luck runs out at some point. Ivan had come to the conclusion that he had been doing this the wrong way. He had been treating it as a game, which it was far from.

This was a hunt.

Tracking was something Ivan had engrained in his very being. From a young age he had been taught to find his prey in the most spare and unforgiving territory with nothing more than his rifle. While China's house wasn't exactly the same as the Russian tundra, Ivan believed that he could still find one American in the large mansion.

This time, instead of looking for tracks or hints of habitation, he tried to smell him out. The scent of hamburgers, while faint, stood out from the exotic spices that wafted through China's house and the flowery scent that clung to Hong Kong. He had stalked through the house, following the odour of beef, and ended up at this door. Gripping his pipe in his left hand, he reached out and nudged the door open.

Hong Kong stared at him, sitting completely straight in a chair, staring expressionlessly at Russia. Surrounding him were five beautiful women, all wearing short dresses in a rainbow of colour, all attempting to rub themselves all over Li and all failing miserably. His expression would not change to matter how close the women would come. One even had the boldness to straddle his lap and run her hands over his chest. The only response was a subtle twitch of his thin eyebrow.

"Li," Ivan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, "Am I interrupting something?" His nostrils flared, the scent of grilled meat even strong. He scanned the room, searching for any closets or hidden panels, but the room seemed cleaned.

Hong Kong stood up, nudging his way out of the gaggle or women. "No. I was just," He looked at his hand, " 'getting it on.' "

His finger brushed his nose for a moment. Russia grinned. "You are lying." He stalked towards to woman and roughly grabbed one's wrist and pulling her to her feet. Pressing his nose into her neck, he breathed in. The strong scent of perfume filled his senses. Snarling, he threw the girl aside.

The women all shriek, scrambling away from the Russian. He advanced on them but stopped as Li stepped between them, his eyes flaring. "Leave them alone."

"A deal is a deal." Ivan growled back, hand tightening around his pipe, "I was promised three chances. This is my third."

Li's light eyes closed. "You can check one more. Touch any others and I will escort you out and will use force is I have to, alright?" He stepped aside, stumbling slightly.

Ivan looked between the four remaining girls. They were all quivering, their eyes big and frightened. Save for one. He strode forward and cornered the one girl that had no fear in her eyes. He reached out a hand, brushing her neck and inhaled deeply. The strong smell of flowers floated through the air and suddenly everything made sense.

"Found you." Russia sang, wheeling around and seizing Hong Kong. His large hand grabbed the dark hair and yanked it. The wig soared through the air and America's blond hair fell into his terrified blue eyes. "Hello Alfred."

Caught. He was beaten. Alfred F. Jones' luck had finally run out. As Ivan's grip tightened around his shoulders, he closed his eyes, frozen in fear.

Just as the sense of defeat had flooded him, the hands released him followed by a cry from the Russian. He opened his eyes to see Ivan bent over, clutching his head. Behind him, Hong Kong was on his feet, a high heel held in his hand, the other near Ivan's feet.

"Run." Li said, aiming the next shoe, "Now."

Alfred stumbled out of the room, pulling his glasses out of the folds of Hong Kong's clothes and sliding them onto his face. The world came into focus and he winded through the corridors of Yao's house, pulling off the silk robes revealing his jeans and shirt underneath.

He burst into the entranceway, making the doorman shriek slightly. He grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and fled the house. Korea peaked into the entranceway, Taiwan's head appearing a few second later. "Guess he's gone." Meili said, her shoulder slumping, "That's too bad, I was hoping he would've made it for dessert."

Japan and China entered from another door. "America-san just left. I blame you for this." Kiku said sternly.

"It's not my fault he's inept, aru." Yao said, equally as unimpressed as his younger brother. "Yong Soo, I though you said you where the best at hiding people." He directed this at Korea, eyebrows raised.

The young man shook his head, single curl bouncing. "I can't believe what I planned didn't work! I thought for sure Ivan would've been fooled."

"What was your plan anyway?" He said, looking between his siblings. Meili was nervously twirling her hand around her finger, "You dragged Alfred away, but what happened after?"

At that moment, Hong Kong stumbled into the room, heavy makeup smeared across his face and wearing nothing but a short thin dress. He crossed his arms, frowning at his family.

"Where are the shoes?" Meili asked.

* * *

"Good story," Arthur said, shifting on his feet. "Can we get on with it then?"

"But don't you want to hear what happened-" Alfred started.

"No! I want to get Matthew back so we can get out of these freezing weather!"

"Fine." Alfred knocked on the door. It was only a moment before Ivan opened the door. His purple eyes travelled first over Alfred, France and finally Arthur. "Hello!" He said happily. "What a surprise. You must be here for Matthew, no?"

"Um," Alfred stared up at Russia, "Yeah actually. We're here to rescue him."

A blond head poked out, a single curl bouncing in front of round glasses. "Oh! Alfred, you're here." Matthew said, "Let me just get my coat." His head disappeared. Russia stepped to the side, allowing Canada to squeeze by him. Once he was standing beside his brother, Matthew turned around, bowing his head, "Thanks for the hot chocolate, it was really yummy."

"No problem. Goodbye." Russia pulled the Canadian into a bone-crushing hug.

"прощание, Ivan!" Matthew said, giving him a small wave once he was released.

Alfred stared at the Russian. "So…"

"You hide from me for three days. Officially you have won, America." Russia stepped back into his house, "But that does not mean this will be our last meeting. Goodbye." The door slammed close.

Matthew looked at the awestruck faces of his family. "I call shotgun?" He offered, smiling at them.

* * *

**Author's Note**

I don't write the Asian nations that much. I hope to remedy that.

I picked the name "Meili" for Taiwan. As far as I know it means "beautiful dawn" or just "beautiful" and for Hong Kong I went with "Li" because it means "sharp, logical, strong" which I think fits him.

The image of Hong Kong sitting in a chair surrounded by women and looking severely unimpressed is the best thing ever.

Japan's singing his character song when America first walks in on him. Canada says "farewell" to Ivan as he leaves.

ALSO. **Lucky-Angel135** told me to listen to "Stalker" by Goldfinger, so I did. It's absolutely perfect for this story and I just wanted to put it out there and to thank Lucky-Angel for the suggestion!


	6. Epilogue

**Where in the World is Alfred Jones**

**Epilogue**

Today, Matthew mused as he sipped a large cup of hot chocolate, was going to be a good day.

At the precise moment his thought went through his head, nothing at all happened. Why would it? Alfred and Ivan had worked out their differences while England was in France, currently beating Francis after hearing the infamous Eiffel Tower Story - now told as a funny narrative instead of a flee for his life - from America.

Sighing happily, Matthew went to open the door to his living room, but paused. The mug of hot chocolate was knocked from his hand as he was seized and dragged away from the parlour. He caught a hint of white hair and strained crimson eyes before he was stuffed into a closet.

Clicking the light on, he stared at the man who had pulled him into the closet. The usually cocky smile was replaced with a look of utter terror. "Gilbert?" Matthew asked, lowering his voice before he was told to. "What are you doing here?"

Prussia ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing the grey locks. "I've already been to West's and Denmark's but he's found me every time!"

Reaching out a hand, Matthew grabbed Gilbert's shoulder. "What's happened?"

"You'll never believe me."

Matthew quirked an eyebrow. "Try me."

The end.

* * *

**ADDED BONUS.** Because you all asked so nicely.

Russia sat back in his chair, lifted a leg up and resting it up in his knee. His propped his hand up on his chin, a smile on his face. He had won. Two days into the contest with Alfred and he had finally found him hiding in Australia's basement. The Russo-Americana Alliance has been finalized today, the leaders of both countries signing the document at a somewhat unbelieving meeting.

"I thought all I had to do is join you." A voice asked. Alfred appeared around the door, hands tugging at the short skirt, trying to cover his legs. "This wasn't part of the deal." He slowly crept into the room, shivering even though a fire blared in front of Russia's chair.

Ivan's smiling face peaked around the back of the chair. "Don't worry my little one. You brought the vodka?"

Alfred nodded, lifting the clear bottle and shaking the contents. "I can't believe you drink this stuff." A hand absently played with his lacy headband, "And that still doesn't explain why I have to wear the maid outfit. I did lose, but we still joined consensually. You didn't win a war or anything." He stalked over to Ivan's chair, and blanched as he saw the Soviet nation.

America had seen Francis force a drunk Arthur into a similar outfit once. Stockings. Tiny -well enormous on Ivan's feet- black shoes. A black skirt and a pink _frilly_ -FRILLY. JESUS CHRIST. - apron. He even had the stupid ruffle around his neck. The rest of Ivan's large body was bare.

He grinned coyly at the younger nation. "You will be needing the vodka, then?"

* * *

**Author's Note**

So stupid. Such a fun story. I'll miss writing Alfred's shenanigans.


End file.
